


Jóga

by tiger_moran



Series: Lyric [21]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Companionship, Don't copy to another site, Love, M/M, Recovery, Referenced Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran
Summary: Twenty-first in a collection of standalone but also interconnected Moriarty and Moran fics inspired by lyrics from songs, particularly pop/rock songs.
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/James Moriarty
Series: Lyric [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992709
Kudos: 8





	Jóga

**Author's Note:**

> Skáld – Jóga (originally by Björk)
> 
> All that no one sees  
> You see what's inside of me  
> Every nerve that hurts  
> You heal deep inside of me  
> You don't have to speak  
> I feel

Still the Professor cannot walk far and even Moran is a very long way from being fit, but both loathe being cooped up in the house. So they walk side by side, slowly, Moriarty leaning on his cane. Moran glances at him occasionally, unable to fully conceal his concern but keeping quiet for the moment. He wants to offer the Professor his arm but is unsure if this would be welcomed or rejected, for he knows that Moriarty doesn't want any fuss, anything that implies pity. Moriarty though sees his questioning looks and finally, to settle the matter, links his arm through Moran's, drawing him close.

“Let us walk to the stream, hmm?” he says.

Moran glances at him again, hesitating. “Right, sir,” he says, doubtfully, and Moriarty knows exactly what his companion is thinking – he is thinking that is this the wisest choice of destination? Will it not bring back terrible memories of the water below the Reichenbach Falls? But he does not openly question this, deciding to allow the Professor to make his own decision.

Moriarty does not know how he will feel of course. There is certainly a world of difference between this fairly placid stream with its rather quaint wooden bridge, and the churning frothing torrent beneath the falls though, so it seems sensible enough to start here. For more than three years he has tried to avoid going near running or open water, afraid of his own reactions, and he wishes to put a stop to that now. It is nonsensical to be scared of water.

The stream runs between the grassy banks, only a couple of feet deep even in most of its deepest points. As they walk alongside it a few small fish swim by; insects hover and dart about above it; birds flit between the branches of the overhanging trees whilst in a shallower pool at the water's edge one braver bird washes itself. It seems all very idyllic, very peaceful, with the sun shining down and with only the sound of splashing water as it runs over the larger stones in the stream's bed and the quacking of some ducks a little way off.

As they step onto the bridge though, Moriarty still tenses. He cannot help it. But he forces himself to put one foot in front of the other, to advance across to the centre of the bridge, and there he draws Moran to a halt.

“Professor?” Moran says.

Moriarty's eyes are closed. He needs a second or two to compose himself, and to steel himself to look over the wooden rail of the bridge, down into the water. To his infinite chagrin he is trembling as he stares down into the stream, and it is not deep and there is nothing worse there than a few mostly rounded off pebbles and some trailing water weeds, but it is as if he is looking at it from a long way away and the splashing of the running stream seems far louder suddenly, roaring in his ears. Without being able to stop himself he is breathing more rapidly and his heart is starting to pound in his chest and his hand is gripping tightly onto the head of his cane and he feels dizzy and his mouth is very dry and-

Moran squeezes his hand firmly, holding him, not relinquishing the pressure for several seconds, and it is enough to cut through his mind's wanderings and to divert Moriarty's attention away from the memory, to snap it back to reality. Just a small stream running over pebbles, no more.

He cannot conceal the truth from Moran, he realises that, and he supposes it would be wrong to try. No one knows him as well as the Colonel does, and similarly, although there are still things Moran does not wish to talk much about even with the Professor, he has been far more open with Moriarty than with anyone else. Moriarty then understands, to try to keep the truth from Moran now would be unfair and things between them, they must continue to work both ways, or he may as well not have returned to Moran at all. The Colonel does understand at least to some degree though without even being told, how badly affected the Professor has been by his fall, by his almost drowning too, not only physically but also in the mind. With great perception however, realising how much the Professor would hate having Moran fuss or have any further attention drawn to his lapse, Moran still says nothing. He only keeps hold of the Professor's hand, his fingers interlinking with Moriarty's, and Moriarty allows it to remain like this, glad of Moran's touch as he focuses on slowing his breathing.

“All right, sir?” Moran asks. “We can turn back if... you're in too much pain, or...”

“No.” Moriarty realises this may have come out a bit too abruptly, and he smiles, softening his expression, showing his gratitude for Moran still calling him _sir_. “No, I'm all right. Let us walk on a little further. Take my arm again, please.” Better that he instructs Moran to do it than leaving Moran to take control.

Obediently Moran links arms with him again, pressing himself close to the Professor's side. The Colonel has gained a little weight since his own illness and he feels pleasingly solid as Moriarty leans against him briefly, and the Professor feels _safe_ with him. Never once did he feel safe after his fall, before he came back to Moran. It is true that things are still not as they were before his fall, but where Moriarty expected still a great deal of lingering anger or resentment from the Colonel, even mistrust, there is only concern. Even Moriarty is still not entirely sure he is deserving of such loyalty from Moran, but he is glad that Moran feels that way.

“We'll walk as far as the big oak tree,” Moriarty tells him as they cross to the far side of the bridge. “Then we shall go back and have some refreshments.”

“Right sir.” Moran smiles as he leans over and places a kiss against Moriarty's cheek. It is completely impulsive, reckless even, for though they are unlikely to be seen by anyone else here, one can never be entirely sure out in the open that they are not being observed, but he cannot help himself.

Moriarty flushes slightly with pleasure at the gesture – he is not really the blushing maiden type, nor is he one to feel ashamed about such behaviour between men; there is simply something so pleasing about the spontaneity of the gesture and the clear affection it conveys and it gives the Professor a strangely warm feeling. For the first time in so long, he thinks, Moran is actually truly starting to appear happy again.

He can think of nothing to say in response to Moran's gesture, not anything he can put into words at least, but he does not really need to say anything now. He only need walk arm in arm with Moran, strolling onwards in companionable silence.


End file.
